Against All Odds
by TheMightyBeeBee
Summary: She's forgotten who she is, he's fighting for his sanity, & his son is obsessed with vengeance on them both. She's deep in the belly of the Badlands, & he's a prisoner of his own tortured mind. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, love endures.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is my VERY first fanfiction! I have no clue if this is good or not, but this idea has been swimming around my head since I saw the finale. My own twisted little fix-it fic! I've got a BAGILLION ideas for this story, so you're probably gonna want to buckle your seatbelts and grab some popcorn. This is gonna be a long one. I have to warn you though, this prologue might cause TaylorxWash fans' brains to explode a little, but this WILL have a BAMF ending, I promise!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Terra Nova. If I did, Skye would've died in the pilot, and Taylor and Wash would have like 15 little ass-kicking BAMF babies running around right now.**

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><p>"<em><strong>Fuck!"<strong>_

She gasped loudly as one of her hands desperately sought purchase in the sheets, the other buried in his hair as he pounded her into the makeshift mattress. His thrusts were hard, deep, and _fast_, jarring her mentally and physically with each stroke. She moaned her appreciation into the room as he nipped and sucked at her neck while keeping his frenzied pace.

"Ahh!" She cried when he swiped his tongue and teeth over a sensitive patch of skin where neck met shoulder, a sharp jolt of arousal bolting straight down her spine to her core. She arched her neck to give him better access and groaned when he continued his assault. She wrapped both legs around him and dug her heels into his backside, trying to pull him in deeper, and growled low in her throat when he pulled back, forsaking his deep, hard thrusts for slow, shallow ones. He chuckled against her skin at her frustration.

"Eager are we, Alicia?" He mumbled in her ear, nibbling on the lobe. He _swore_ he could hear her roll her eyes in addition to the hiss of breath she released in his ear. "_God_… Shut up and finish me." She ground out through clenched teeth as he continued his languid thrusts, keeping her just on the edge of release. "Hmm…" He hummed in mock contemplation as he pulled his head away from her neck, blue eyes twinkling with amusement as they met her amber ones. He smirked down at her as he took the hand she had in his hair and pinned it over her head, bringing the other up to meet it.

"Ask me nicely." He commanded huskily, his smirk widening at the glare she gave him. With a sound of frustration, she bucked her hips, silently telling him to stop toying with her and let her come. "Ah, ah, ah…" he scolded playfully, pulling out of her almost completely. His wide smirk grew into a wolfish grin as he lowered his upper body onto hers, pinning her beneath his weight. He returned to his previous position at her neck.

"You heard me, _Alicia._" He said against her skin, drawling her name in a way he knew would send a shiver down her spine, "Ask…" a light nip at her pulse. "Me…" a lick. "Nicely." a combination of lips, tongue, and teeth that sent another shock of arousal to her throbbing core. He lifted his head to stare down at her again, still grinning. Being the woman she was, she refused to give in. She writhed beneath him, urgently seeking her climax. He chuckled at her again.

After a few moments of fruitless struggling, she relaxed into the mattress and slowly closed her eyes.

"_Please…_" she muttered under her breath, keeping her eyes closed.

"Can't hear you." He said, punctuating the statement with a deep, hard thrust and pulling almost completely out of her again.

She gasped and her eyes flew open to meet his. "Please…" She groaned, louder this time.

"Say it again." He commanded, pushing into her harshly again.

"_Ahh_- God! _Please_ Taylor!" She cried, eyes rolling back into her head as she felt an intense wave of pleasure wash over her. His wolfish grin turning smug, he released one of her hands and grabbed one of her legs, lifting it even higher. "Please _what_, Alicia?" he drawled, grinding into her slowly. She glared at him, her face flushed, breaths coming out in harsh pants. With her free hand, she reached around to grip the back of his head and pull him down to roughly crash his mouth against hers. She bit –not nipped, _bit_- at his lip, punishing him for his teasing, and smirked when he groaned into their kiss.

She worked her mouth over his until she felt his body quiver against hers. Pleased that she'd regained some semblance of power over him, she released his mouth with an audible smack and looked him in the eye. "_Please_ let me come, Taylor." She whispered lowly. It came out sounding more like a demand than a plea.

He didn't make her wait any longer.

With a groan, he shifted, lifting his chest off hers and anchoring himself with one hand, using the other to hold her leg in place, and pistoned into her- _hard_. She arched her back, releasing his hair to grasp at the sheets again, a loud cry tearing through her lips. The sound of his sweat-slicked skin slapping against hers followed by her sighs, moans, and curses filled the room. "_Oh!_" She cried when he rolled his hips against hers, grinding his pelvis against her clit, "_Fuck_… Yesss…"

He felt her walls begin to clench around him and shifted again, thrusting harder, faster, deeper inside her, continuing to grind against her clit with each stroke. They both groaned at the feel of his new angle. He leaned down to put his mouth to her skin again, sliding his tongue from her collarbone to her jaw, and biting down on her pulse with a growl in time with a particularly good thrust.

This undid her.

Every muscle in her body tensed as she screamed her completion into his ear, her walls clenching and unclenching around him as he continued to move inside her. Her eyes rolled and her toes curled at the sensations wracking her body, and she closed her eyes against the pleasure, biting her lip and taking in a slow hiss of breath.

As the violent waves of her orgasm slowly ebbed to a light throb and her screams turned into breathy gasps and moans, his thrusts became frantic as he sought his own release. The sound of his harsh pants and grunts alerted her to his closeness as she came down from her high, her eyes finding his as she lightly gripped the back of his head with one hand. The wild, almost animalistic look in his cerulean depths made her gasp as she gripped his bicep with her other hand.

Through the haze of pleasure, he saw her flushed skin, glazed eyes, and open mouth, and thought she never looked more _sinfully_ beautiful than she did in that moment. She invaded all of his senses. The sight of her dazed, lust-filled expression, the feel of her body, tightly wound around his, the smell of sex and the sharp, feminine scent that was _her_, radiating off of her, the warm, salty taste of her skin that was still on his tongue… She was intoxicating.

It was the sound of her voice that pushed him over the edge.

"Come for me, Taylor." She commanded in a throaty moan, her eyes never leaving his.

With those four words, his world crashed around him as white-hot fire shot through his lions and into her greedy body. A loud, guttural groan tore through his lips as he spilled himself into her, his thrusts never ceasing, the sound of their coupling louder, wetter. She hummed in contentment as she milked his seed from him, her hand releasing his hair to lightly stroke his naked back.

With a grunt and one last roll of his hips, he pulled out and rolled to lay beside her, turning to his side and pulling her body to his. She lay on her back and he on his side, facing her, propped up on one arm and the other arm slung possessively over her waist. As she tenderly stroked his arm with one hand and rested the other on his cheek, they silently basked in the afterglow, satisfied expressions on both their faces.

After lying there for who knows how long in comfortable silence, absentmindedly stroking each other's skin, Taylor's look of contentment quickly turned into one of wicked mirth. "Well…" he started, arching a brow and letting a smirk graze his handsome features, "That was one hell of a debriefing." Alicia smiled and rolled her eyes at him. That _was_ what she came in here for, before they got… distracted.

He'd sent to lead a company of five other soldiers to check out some of the uncharted territory around their camp for resources. Clean drinking water, edible fruits and animals, anything that could be of use to them. They'd been in the badlands for nearly a month and the little food they had was running out fast. Knowing where they were headed when they fled Terra Nova, rations weren't as high on their priority list as meds and ammo.

After effectively scoping the area, Alicia and her team were to report back to camp, where she was supposed to report their findings to Taylor… Needless to say, after walking in his tent and finding him in nothing but a pair of loosely fitting cargo pants, the debriefing slipped her mind. Two days in the dreadful wilderness of the badlands with five complaining Phoenix Group morons felt like twenty and left her starved for his presence.

She gazed up at him, matching his amused expression with one of her own. "Didn't hear you complaining a few minutes ago." She said, lazily drawing circles on his arm with her fingertips. His smirk widened into a full blown grin as he moved so he was on top of her again. "Maybe so," He said as he hovered over her, pressing a firm kiss to her jaw, "but I can't have you slacking off, Alicia. I think some disciplinary action is in order." Another kiss, this time to her neck.

She chuckled, the sound breaking off into a breathy groan as he pressed open mouthed kisses to each of her breasts. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched into his mouth. "You're going to be the death of me, Lucas Taylor." She groaned out as he latched on to her nipple and sucked hard.

He grinned wickedly against her mound at the sound of her words and the breathy moan that followed them.

She had no idea how right she was.

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><p><strong>AN: Mwahahaha DON'T KILL ME! Like I said at the beginning, this WILL have a BAMF ending… You just have to wait and see how my sick little brain gets us there.**

**How is Wash still alive? Why is she boinking Lucas? What's going on in Lucas' crazy little man-child brain? Where the **_**hell**_** is Nathaniel?**

**I know the answers to these questions… But you don't!**

**Review, or I'll leave Wash in Lucas' crazy clutches from now 'til infinity!**

**(Yes, I'm resorting to blackmail)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all I have to send thank yous and hugs to everyone who favorited and reviewed the first chapter... You guys motivate me and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! :) Thank you so much for all your kind words. This chapter is all Nathaniel! It's not gonna blow your brains up like the first chapter, but it'll probably break your heart. It's all introspective, giving you guys a peek into Nathaniel's sad little brain before the real plot takes off... I'm saving that for the next chapter!**

**The chapters are probably gonna be like this for the rest of the story, Wash/Lucas one chapter, then Nathaniel/Terra Nova in the next until the BAMF reunion.**

**And to morningsong101 and Trini Li, I hope your brains have recovered!**

**Enjoy, my lovelies!**

**Disclaimer: Yep. Still don't own it.**

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><p>Pain.<p>

Gut-wrenching pain and a deep, burning feeling of loss in the pit of his stomach.

Those are the first two things he's aware of when he wakes up that morning.

His mind is awake, but he can't will his body to move, his limbs feeling too heavy to lift. He forced his eyes open, grimacing at the sandpaper-like feeling of his eyelids, and scanned the still-dark room. The sun hadn't risen yet, and he'd bet that he hadn't slept for more than two hours. With more effort than should've been necessary, he rolled over to look at the clock on his nightstand.

_2:30 AM_, it read. He'd only slept for two and a half hours.

_Damn sight better than last night, _he thought as he rolled back to his previous position and closed his eyes again. There was still another hour and a half before pre-dawn patrol, and he knew sleep wouldn't be coming his way again anytime soon. This had become something like a routine to him in the month since reclaiming Terra Nova. He allowed his body to rest while his mind wandered to the source of his current state of agony.

Commander Nathaniel Taylor was a soldier. Pain and loss were, in no way, new to him. He'd been held captive and tortured for weeks during times of war. His body had seen more bullet wounds than he could count. He'd lost more friends and comrades than he cared to think of. He'd been forced to stand by as his wife was slowly killed in front of him, and he watched his son blame him for her death, allowing his anger and contempt to turn him into a madman.

All of these things have wounded him, put chinks in the armor around his soul, and slowly hardened his old heart, but nothing- absolutely _nothing_- has pained him deeper than losing _her_.

"_Wash…_" Her nickname leaves his mouth in a whisper as he stares up blankly at the ceiling.

It had been a month since she was murdered before his own eyes at the hands of his son, and his grief was just as intense as it ever had been, if not more so. Many men and women had died under his command in his lifetime, and he'd found himself able to deal some way or another within a week, at most. He shouldn't still feel this way.

He shouldn't still be losing sleep. The memory of her death shouldn't still be replaying in his mind over and over again. He shouldn't still see her face when he closes his eyes. He shouldn't be waking up to this crippling heartache every morning.

And yet, he was.

He didn't pretend he didn't know why, either.

Wash had been more than just a good soldier. She'd been his closest and most trusted friend, had helped him through the toughest times of his life, saved his life on multiple occasions, and stood by his side, no matter how deep into the bowels of hell he went, for the past 15 years.

And he loved her.

He loved her dry, sarcastic sense of humor, the way her wits rivaled his own. Her tongue was sharp as knives, and she could verbally castrate a man twice her size if need be. He loved the way she'd fuss over him when he'd return from being OTG, no matter how insignificant his injuries, even though he feigned annoyance. He loved the smirk she'd wear when she gained the upper hand in their sparring sessions, knowing he'd find a way to overpower her again eventually, but enjoying the way the quirk in her lips seemed to heighten her beauty. And he especially loved her strength, both mental and physical. The woman was tough as nails, had a temper fiercer than a slasher's, and could hold her own on the battlefield better than anyone he knew. Her iron will and pride warmed his heart with respect and admiration… And the look of her small, athletic frame warmed _other_ parts of him with desire.

He loved all these things about her and more, and she'd never known.

In life, Wash had never heard the words from his lips. She never caught him stealing glances at her while they worked, the way he'd smile slightly to himself at the- he'd call it _cute_, but the word simply didn't suit her- little frown of concentration that graced her features when she was engrossed in paperwork. She never noticed the small tremor that went down his spine when they touched; be it a light brush of fingers when exchanging data pads or a clap on the shoulder for a job well done, the feeling of his skin touching hers never failed to send a small thrill through him. She never knew just how deep his love for her ran, how she'd unwittingly wormed his way into his heart, without his permission, and stayed there for the past decade.

_And now she never will_, he thought. He grimaced as a pang of guilt shot through his chest.

He'd been a coward. The great Commander Nathaniel Taylor had been _afraid_.

It was a word he'd never been fond of, and would never use to describe himself under normal circumstances, but while he was here, staring back at the last ten years of his life through his mental rear view, he realized that's exactly what he had been.

Afraid of rejection, afraid of the possibility of her leaving him, afraid of the consequences of pursuing a relationship with his subordinate, afraid of the changes that would come with said relationship, but more than anything, he was afraid of failing her; of not meeting her expectations, not being what she needed, of not being _enough_.

And yet, by a twisted turn of fate, that's exactly what he did.

He let her down in more ways than he wanted to recall. Every time he thought to tell her of his feelings and didn't, having convinced himself that she deserved better. Every time he let her go home to her empty house, alone. Ordering her to stay behind that morning, fearing for her safety, when it was the last thing she wanted to do. And, his biggest failure of them all, standing by and watching when she was gunned down by his son.

His rational, military side reminded him that there was nothing he could've done, that trying to rescue her would've been suicide, but the lovelorn, grief-ravaged part of him reminded him that she was worth the risk. Always had been.

But instead of risking it all to save her, the way she would've (and had) done for him, he just stood by, not 10 yards away, as Lucas pulled the trigger, as her head snapped back violently at the force of the shot, as her lifeless body fell to the ground.

He'd failed her… The same way he failed Ayani. The same way he failed Lucas.

The thought ushers on another wave of painful emotions that hit him with a force that would've sent him to his knees, had he been standing.

He simply wasn't enough. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he just wasn't enough. Wasn't fast enough to get to his family before they were captured. Wasn't strong enough to be the father Lucas needed after losing Ayani, allowing his son's hatred to fester while he drowned himself in work and alcohol. Wasn't brave enough to risk his life for his second love, who, as he now realizes, he loved even more deeply, more fiercely than his first.

Another pang of guilt strikes him at this reminder of his emotional betrayal to his late wife.

He'd loved Ayani. She was everything a man could ask for in a woman. She had a classic kind of beauty, blond, with fair skin and blue eyes, soft, and delicate, with a warm smile and a heart of gold; Loving and tender with a demure, motherly demeanor that made her easy to talk to, easy to like, easy to love. And for all her outward sweetness, the woman had an inner fire that could put any man (or woman), even Nathaniel Taylor, in their place if need be.

But Wash… She was a different kind of woman altogether.

Where Ayani had been soft and sweet, Alicia was hard and tough. With her raven-hair, olive skin, and amber eyes, her dark beauty was a stark contrast to his late wife's. The woman didn't have a delicate bone in her body, and with her sharp tongue and biting wit, she didn't know the meaning of the word demure. For every ounce of inner fire Ayani possessed, Wash had twice as much on the outside, her strength and power, physical and mental, surprising even him sometimes.

Amongst all the differences between his two loves, the one thing they had in common were their big hearts; each woman showing hers in a different way. Ayani wore hers on her sleeves, showering everyone she met with all the motherly care and affection she could give. Alicia kept hers guarded, protecting herself from anyone who might try to take her capacity to love for weakness, prefering to show her care for others through her actions; be it through putting her neck on the line to protect them, or voluntarily teaching survival classes so they could protect themselves.

While he loved them both, what he felt for his two women were two totally different things.

Ayani had been his first love, his first (and only) wife, had given him his child, and stayed true to him, holding down the home front while he risked his life in battle after battle, war after war, leaving her to worry for his life every day while she raised their son. Wash was different.

For the past 15 years, she'd been right beside him during every battle of every war, stitching him up he was wounded, and saving his ass on multiple occasions. Because of this, she had something Ayani never would… She understood him completely. She knew what it was like to go on the front line and not know if you'd be coming back, to watch friends die painful deaths and be unable to cry, to face death and be unafraid, time and time again. For every man and woman he lost, she'd lost a friend. For every battle scar he had, she had one as well. She was there with silent comfort and a bottle of scotch while he grieved the loss of his family. She followed him blindly to this new world, their new beginning, with unhesitating, unwavering faith in him, and helped make Terra Nova into what it is today.

He'd loved Ayani with all his heart… But he loved Wash with all his soul.

A shrill ringing sound tore him from his thoughts, and he slowly opened his eyes and sighed (whether it was in relief from being freed from his painful thoughts or agitation at being pulled from is somewhat restful position, he didn't know), as he turned to face his clock again.

_4:00 AM_, it read. Reflection time was over.

He reached over and shut off the alarm with one hand and pulled the sheets from his body with the other. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his body and hearing the satisfying pop of his back and joints as he did so. He took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom in his boxers with the intention of getting a shower and ridding his mind of its earlier thoughts before reporting for pre-dawn patrol.

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><p>He stepped out of his quarters, freshly showered and dressed in his normal fatigues, black shirt, body armor, and combat boots, his leather holster slung across his chest. He scanned the area around his quarters and took a breath. As he exhaled, he forced his torturous emotions to the back of his mind. Terra Nova needed him, now more than ever, and his destructive thoughts would only distract him, keep him from being the leader they needed him to be.<p>

With his mind cleared and his intention set in place, he stepped off his porch and headed toward the gate to meet Shannon.

He'd deal with his emotions later. He had a colony to think about.

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><p><strong>AN: Sooo... Whatcha think? I wasn't really too sure you guys would feel about this chapter, with it being all Nathaniel's thoughts and feelings and no dialogue, but I'm telling you, its very necessary for you to have this deep look into Taylor's pain, plus I think you deserve something emotional after the heaping helping of plot whiplash I gave you in chapter 1.**

***Sniffles* Poor Nathaniel! Sad to say, what he's feeling now is just the tip of the iceberg.**

**Next chapter is where the plot comes in, AND it's gonna be Wash-centered!**

**D****on't worry, she wont be humping Lucas in this one lol.**

**Review, or I'll find a way to make Nathaniel end up with Mira. *shudders***


	3. Chapter 3

**I'M STILL ALIVE!**

**I'm TERRIBLY sorry about the wait for this chapter. I'm not gonna make a bunch of excuses for the delay, but this chapter is longer than the other two, so I hope that makes up for it. I've also uploaded the beginnings of a BAMF baby!fic as penance, so check that out if you please.**

**I know I said that the plot would **_**really**_** come in in this chapter, butttt…. I lied. Next chapter, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Never will.**

**Now that that's out of the way, ON WITH THE FIC!**

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><p><em>She opens her eyes. This is a miracle in itself, despite the sharp pain that surges through her head when she does. She quickly shuts her eyes.<em>

_She isn't dead._

_But as soon as she tries to open her eyes again, the brightness of whatever room she's in hitting her eyes and sending another searing pain through her skull, she starts to wish she was. She decides against opening her eyes again, opting to take in her surroundings through her other senses._

_She's standing with her back to what feels like a rough stone wall, her body slumped against it. Her arms are suspended over her head, held by what feels like a pair of handcuffs. Obviously, she's being held captive. She tries to move, finds that it feels as if someone has poured sand in her joints, her body weak and stiff from inactivity. She mentally takes stock of her injuries; Her legs are burning, tired from the strain of supporting her body weight for god knows how long, her ribs are sore, and judging from the pain that lances through her side with every breath she takes, a few of them may be broken. Her head is throbbing painfully on the right side. A memory of her staring down the barrel of a gun hits her consciousness._

"_You have your father's eyes…"_

_The war. Helping the Shannons escape... Lucas shooting her. The memories flood her all at once, her mind begins to race. The first thing on her mind is wonder about how (and why) the hell she was still alive. Her worry for Nathaniel was a close second; was he safe? Did Shannon deliver her message? Did they retake the colony? And if they did, why (and where) the hell was she being held captive? She doesn't stifle the agonized groan that emits from her mouth as a particularly excruciating throb wracks her head. Perhaps she shouldn't think so hard._

_She isn't dead._

_For the moment, she's content to relish in that knowledge and allow herself to slip back into unconsciousness, too exhausted to think on it too much, but then she hears a man's voice; it's a familiar one, but she finds herself unable to place a face to it._

"_Well, hello, Alicia."_

_His tone is contemptuous, laced with both malice and amusement, and the sound of her first name from a voice she didn't recognize sets her on edge._

_She slowly opens her eyes to glare at her captor._

She awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open and darting around wildly about the tent's interior. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and a faint pain in the right side of her skull. She wills her racing heart to slow down as she tries to recall the dream (or nightmare) that's put her in such a state, finds that she can't, and closes her eyes again with a heavy sigh.

It's like this every morning.

She awakes with a start, head pounding and heart racing, sometimes a cold sweat coating her face and neck, thanks to a dream she can never seem to remember. It's maddeningly frustrating.

She opens her eyes again and notes that Lucas is gone; the cool, empty space next to her on their cot tells her that. She's not surprised. He's almost always up and gone way before she wakes, and today is no different.

She is surprised, however, when Mira pokes her head in, scowling at her as usual.

"Well good morning, sleeping beauty." She said scornfully, making her way inside the tent, "About time you woke up."

Alicia responded with a dirty look of her own as she sat up on her forearms, "Mira," She acknowledged, eyeballing the brown-skinned woman. She arched a brow and tilted her head as her voice took a mockingly innocent tone, "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

Mira rolled her eyes. "Please, the displeasure is all mine. This is hardly a friendly visit." She grabbed the pair of fatigues Alicia had left on the floor the night before and tossed them to her. "Get some clothes on. Your _boyfriend_ wants a word with us." The word _boyfriend_ came out with a sneer and Alicia's scowl deepened at her mocking expression. Smirking, Mira exited the tent to wait for her outside.

"_Bitch…_" Alicia mutters as she pulls the sheet away from her naked body with one hand, holds her pants in the other. She didn't know what it was about Mira, but something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way. She barely knew her, and they almost never said more than two words to each other at a time, but her dislike for her grew every day. Evidently, the feeling was mutual, as Mira had shown nothing but disdain for her for as long as she could remember (which, admittedly, was only a month). They tolerated each other at best; loathed each other at worst.

With her free hand, she grabs the white tank she'd discarded last night, and stands to quickly put her clothes on, foregoing putting on undergarments; the heat was already unbearable, and she wasn't about to make herself more uncomfortable than necessary. She ignores the uncomfortable prickly feeling of her skin against the fabric as she tugs on her combat boots. She was in dire need of a bath, covered in sweat that had long since cooled and dried from the previous night's activities, but it could wait until after she found out what Lucas wanted. She makes her way out of the tent and turns to Mira.

Mira eyes her from head to toe and back up again, takes note of her still-mussed hair, and smirks as she opens her mouth to speak again. "Have a good time last night?" She asks in a derisive tone with a quirked brow, heading in whatever direction Lucas had gone off to. Alicia glares harder, ignoring her question, follows behind her anyway.

She knows that everyone in camp knows about her and Lucas' relationship; she's aware of their eyes on her even now as she makes her way through the camp, and she's very much aware of the way they talk about her in hushed whispers when they think she's not listening. She knows all of this, and can't seem to bring herself to care. It's none of their damn business what she does with her- she pauses in that thought, searching for a proper word… _leader_.

Yeah, that fits.

Contrary to what Mira (and everyone else) thinks, Lucas is far from her boyfriend. She frowns at the mere thought of the word. Their relationship was physical, but it's hardly anything more. He was… comfortable. His was the first face she saw when she first awoke in the jungle a month ago; he was the one who told her who she was (kind of) when she had no recollection of her life before her 'awakening', and he was the only one in their camp who showed any kind of interest in her… and even though she hardly knew the man, there was something about his eyes that filled her with an inexplicable warmth. They felt… _familiar_ somehow.

His azure depths turned out to be the only thing in her life that felt familiar, even now.

Although Alicia is more at ease with Lucas than anyone else, he still feels like a stranger to her most of the time; more like the lesser of all evils than a true companion. The time they spend together is usually brief and strictly business, and when it's not, they spend their time doing less talking than anything. Since she can't bring herself to miss something she's never had (lack of human contact has been a constant in her life since her awakening), and their physical relationship allows her a release from the all tension and stresses she's faced with on a daily basis, she's perfectly fine with keeping it that way. No emotions, no attachments, just pure physical release whenever she needs it. She'd gladly take sex- especially _good_ sex- over camaraderie.

She continues to pointedly ignore Mira's presence as they make their way to the large tent at the center of their camp that Lucas affectionately (melodramatically, if you asked her) called the Command Center. His aggrandizement usually earned him an eye roll from his lover; it was a big tent in the middle of a bunch of little tents in a camp in the middle of a desert on the outskirts of nowhere. He made it seem as if it were the hub of some huge enterprise.

They step into the tent to find Lucas talking to Carter, Lucas sitting at the rickety desk in the back of the tent, Carter standing in front of it, his back to them. They stand at parade rest while they wait for them to finish their conversation. Carter is another person that unnerves her. The man can never seem to look her in the eyes, and she's caught him staring at her with something akin to _pity_ on numerous occasions. It's very unsettling, and she keeps as much distance from the man as possible.

As if the man could hear her thoughts, Carter turns his head and instantly settles his eyes on Alicia, that sorrowful look in his eyes again. She feels her irritation flare. He nods stiffly in her direction. "Alicia," He greets, and then sends another nod to the woman beside her, "Mira."

Mira nods back while Alicia simply stares at him, resisting the urge to slap the damned look off his face.

The expression on the Sixer's face didn't go unnoticed by Lucas, either. "You're dismissed, Carter." He says, eyeing the man with suspicion. Carter didn't even turn back around. He nodded mutely and made his way out the tent, his eyes darting between the exit and Alicia.

Once he had left, Lucas clapped his hands and rubbed them together, a grin on his face. "Well," he said, standing up from his seat behind the desk, "If it isn't my two favorite ladies!" Mira and Alicia scoffed and rolled their eyes in unison. "Cut the crap, Taylor. What do you want?" Mira said, placing her hands on her hips. Beside her, Alicia raised a brow and folded her arms over her chest, silently asking him the same question.

Lucas' grin widened. "No need to be so testy." He said, making his way around the desk, "I have a task for you." He nodded to Alicia. "I'm sending Carter on another scouting mission, and I want you with him. Nothing too far out, maybe a mile or two beyond our perimeter. You should be back by nightfall." Alicia nodded mutely, but couldn't keep a begrudging look from crossing her features. She'd only just got back from a scouting mission yesterday, the last thing she wanted to do is go on another one so soon, especially not with her two _least_ favorite people in the camp.

"That's all fine and dandy, but what the hell am I here for?" Mira asked, exasperated.

Lucas turned his gaze on her, his smile giving way to a slightly annoyed expression, "Because you're going to be accompanying them." Mira opened her mouth to protest, and he quickly spoke again, "You know this wilderness better than either of them. If anything… _unexpected_ happens while they're out there, you'll know how to handle it. Better safe than sorry, don't you think?" He smirked.

Mira glowered and nodded silently.

Lucas clapped his hands together, grin returning in full force. "Good. Carter's off getting supplies, so meet him at the supply tent in ten minutes."

"Can we make it fifteen? I need to shower." Alicia asked.

"Of course you do." Lucas quipped, a knowing smirk on his face. He ignores the glare she sends him and nods. "Fine, fifteen minutes. Mira and Carter'll be waiting for you when you finish."

Alicia nodded, keeping her expression stoic as relief flooded her. At least she'd be able to rid herself of the sweat and grime of the last scouting mission (and not to mention her _activities_ with Lucas the night before) before going on this one. As she turned to leave, she stole a glance at Mira, who still had her eyes fixed on Lucas, a furious look on her face. She found herself unable to care too much about why she was upset, not with her extreme dislike for the woman and the prospect of finally getting clean in her future, and made her way out of the tent, heading in the direction of her tent to fetch some fresh clothes.

After Alicia made her exit, Lucas went to take his place behind his desk again, completely oblivious to the way Mira was scowling at him.

"Scouting mission, my ass." She said through clenched teeth, stalking toward the desk, "What are you _really_ up to, Taylor?" She placed her hands on the desk, leaning so there were just a few inches between their faces.

Lucas looks at her then, a devilish gleam in his eyes, a fiendish grin on his face, the façade of stoicism he puts on around Alicia gone now, stripped down to reveal the _real_ Lucas Taylor in all his maniacal glory.

"I have work to do, Mira. _Work, _work." He says, knowing she knew what he meant, "I can't have my little _pet_ sniffing around here and sticking her nose in places it shouldn't be, now can I?"

Mira scoffed. "Don't you think she's gonna start getting suspicious? What with you sending her on 'scouting missions-'" she used air quotes, "-every other day?"

Lucas guffawed, a disturbingly mirthless shout of a laugh escaping his lips. "And what if she does? What'll she do about it, _question me?_" he barked out another humorless laugh, "_Please._ I've got little Miss Alicia wrapped around my finger. Even if she does, I can tell her anything and she'll believe it. She wouldn't challenge me if she wanted to. Not now." The crazed smile on his face widened as he took sick pleasure in recounting how much power he had over the woman.

_My Alicia_, he heard his own voice say in his mind, his words from a not-so-distant memory.

"If that's the case, why the hell do I need to go on this little mission? You've got Carter." Mira said, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"That's exactly the problem. I don't trust Carter around her." Lucas said, face contorting to a sneer at the thought of the man, "You've seen the way he looks at her. Every time he sees her, it's like he wants to break down and tell her all the dark little truths about who she is and what I've done, hop on a rover and ride off into the sunset with her back to Terra Nova... Back to _Him._" His teeth clenched as he mentioned his father, "That weak son of a bitch makes me _sick_. I need _you_ to keep him in line so he doesn't ruin all of our plans-"

"All of _your_ plans." Mira cuts him off, the intensity of her scowl increasing tenfold, "Your sick little play for revenge on _daddy_ has nothing to do with me."

"Ah, but it does." Lucas retorted, that creepy too-happy smile on his face again, "It does if you want to get back to 2149. If you want to get back to your _precious_ little girl." It was a low blow, he knew, and he chuckled giddily in sick delight when he saw her flinch. "That's what I thought. Now leave, I have work to do." He waved her off and returned his attention the papers on his desk, effectively dismissing her presence.

Mira hesitated, but began to back out of the tent, keeping her eyes trained on the demented man in front of her. Before exiting the tent, she spoke again. "Look Taylor," she said, getting his attention again as he looked up from the papers in front of him to look at her, a bored expression on his face, "I don't know what the hell you've got up your sleeve, and I honestly don't give a shit. All I know is that you need to find yourself a new babysitter." There was a hint of a threat in her tone as she spoke, "I've got better things to do with my time than watch your little _pet._" She spit the last word at him and left the tent before he could respond.

That suited him just fine, seeing as he hadn't planned on responding anyway. He snickered at the thought of the underlying threat that had been in her tone; as if there was anything she could do to hurt him. She needed him to get back to the future, to save her daughter from the perils of 2149 and the work camp she would be sent to if her mother didn't get to her soon.

Mira had no power, she was just another puppet, just like the rest of them.

Of all his puppets, though, there was none he was more proud of than his _Alicia._

The devilish grin splits his face again.

Before he'd gotten his hands on her she'd been _Wash_, his father's most loyal minion, and he'd despised her nearly as much as he had his father. She had been no better than his father was, with their annoyingly warped notions of morality and honor and justice. She had worshipped the ground Nathaniel Taylor walked on, was willing to follow him to the ends of the earth without question, and he'd despised her for it. He had fully intended to kill her when she refused to reveal his father's location, but decided to stun her instead at the last minute, saving her for later in case he needed a Trump card on his father.

And boy was he glad he did.

He had taken Alicia Washington, his father's favorite lapdog and most trusted comrade, and turned her into his own little toy soldier.

_Slash fuck toy,_ his mind added, causing his smile too stretch to an almost painful degree. Yes, that was certainly the part he was most proud of; the fact that he possessed Alicia in every way his father had, plus the _one_ way he hadn't, but always wanted to.

Only a stupid person would miss the way his father looked at his second, and only an even stupider person could miss the way she used to fuss over him, the way she'd treat his wounds with a tenderness that wasn't there for anyone else, the way their interactions skirted just on the edge of propriety, but never crossing the line fully.

Lucas wasn't stupid. Not by a long shot.

Even in the early days of Terra Nova, when he spent nearly no time with his father (and even less time with Alicia), Lucas could read between the lines. The old man had been in love with her, and her him, but never had the balls to do anything about it.

He didn't know if his father's feelings for his second had been there when his mother was alive, but it was of no concern to him now. All that mattered was that he'd done the one thing his "perfect" father had been too weak to do, and all he wanted to do was rub it in the old bastard's face. He knew he had to be suffering already, having watched the second love of his life "die" at the hands of his only child, but Lucas had so much more in mind.

He wanted to relish his father's devastation when he found out that his emotional mistress had been taken to bed by his own son. He wanted to shove his tongue down her throat, right before his father's eyes, show him every cum stain on his sheets, show him how she'd _never_ be his, how he'd branded her from the inside out, the way he never did.

And that was only the beginning of his plans.

Oh yes, he was going to make him _suffer_ before it was all over. He was going to make them _both_ suffer, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"Don't worry Mom, I'll get our revenge." He mused aloud with conviction despite the crazed amusement written on his features.

With that, his intention firmly in place, he got to work on his plans, meticulously plotting his revenge with a madman's smile on his face.

* * *

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